I'll Be Your Lover, Too
by TheManWithTheGoldenIpod
Summary: The continuation of my first story, "Vindicated". Heading down a Season Four which includes Susan, this'll invovle more characters and plots as we go along. Read and review, or slander, if you like...
1. Default Chapter

For all who wished the first story, "Vindicated", to continue, this is what you asked for. But we needed a new song of inspiration...all standard disclaimers apply regarding character and title possession...Take it away, Van.

**I'll Be Your Lover, Too**

_I'll be a man...I'll understand_

_Do my best to take...good care of you_

_Yes I will_

_You'll be my queen...I'll be your king_

_Yes I'll be your...lover too_

Van Morrison was crooning quietly in the apartment, heavy with the early morning humidity of a late Chicago summer. Mark stood leaning against the refrigerator, watching Susan sleep. This had to be one of the best things about her coming back to Chicago, coming back to him – the peace and the simple joy she brought to the most basic aspects of his life.

He stood there, his eyes fixed on her, and couldn't remember a time when he felt happier. The whole thing seemed so right, a natural extension of a closeness the two of them had formed. Morrison kept playing softly from the radio. Mark's peacefulness was then broken up by Nick, barking for his morning meal.

"You're killing me, Nick", Mark smirked as he grabbed a can opener.

> > > >

The rustling of metal on metal and the sound of dog paws clawing on the cabinet made her stir. This was always the hardest part – every day seemed like it would be better than the next, and she'd go to sleep every night full of joy, but dreading waking up. She felt she'd open her eyes to find the whole thing to be fantasy, that she and Mark were not in fact happy together but still miserable apart.

Every morning she woke up to see Mark next to her, or looking at her, or making breakfast for her, or having left a note for her, she became more fulfilled that it all actually was happening.

On this morning, thick with the August heat, she saw Mark in the kitchen attempting to get Nick to sit still before he received breakfast. He was so earnest, trying to get the hyperactive mutt to obey a simple command; it made her smile. Being together with him, sharing moments both profound and benign seemed so right. Nothing had ever felt more so.

Mark turned to see her beautiful eyes looking over to him.

"Morning, sleepy head." He walked over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"What time is it?" She asked, even thought she didn't care. "7:52", Mark replied, and then Susan began to realize her problem. She was about to bolt past Mark, throw on a new shirt and head for work to avoid being insanely late for the start of her shift in eight minutes, but she saw Mark eye's gleaming through his glasses straight at her.

"I already called Kerry to tell her you'll be late." A smile curled on his lips and Susan's face relaxed again as she looked at him. He was right proud of himself.

"Well, we'll have to find some way to occupy that time." The two of them enjoyed foreplay. She pulled the collar of his shirt in close, capturing him in a kiss, and they fell back into bed.

> > > >

Carol stirred a cup of coffee in the lounge, pondering life and the strange curves it throws your way. Why had what Corday said bothered her? This was a truly, genuinely different time around for her and Doug. Women were going to flirt with him. They had always flirted with him. In fact, if she wanted to maintain her cover, she probably should be encouraging him to flirt back. The whole thing made no sense.

Out in the hall, Lydia and Conni were peering through the window, taking precaution to stay just out of Carol's sight line. Jerry walked by, "What's going on?"

Lydia started: "Dr. Corday tried to hit on Ross."

Conni finished: "And Carol thinks she succeeded."

Chuni peered over from the admit desk: "Corday the spunky British women?" Malik didn't look up from his chart as he replied in the affirmative.

From the other side of the desk, Haleh reached for her purse, "Jerry, I'll ante up: 20 bucks on Thanksgiving Dinner."

Chuni chuckled: "I'll take that action. New Year's Eve."

Lydia protested, "I'm still holding out for Valentine's Day."

Jerry shook his head, "She'll never hold out that long."

Malik shrugged his shoulders as he pointed out, "She's still naïve enough to think nobody knows." Conni slammed 30 dollars on the table. "Christmas Eve."

Jerry pooled together the cash, "Carol might not know it, but she's gonna make one of us a very happy, wealthy person."

"I hope you win Jerry," Lydia said, and Jerry smiled at the seemingly genuine sentiment. Lydia quickly snarked, "You're gonna need cash for the disguise and transport over the border."

Chuni, chimed in: "Customs can be a real bitch."

Jerry grimaced as he once again rose to defend himself: "She told me it wasn't loaded!"

> > > >

Just then Susan pushed her way through the ambulance doors, around the fire and sanitation crew pooling in the ambulance bay.

"What happened? It's a damn mess out there", she griped, dusting off her coat.

"Jerry tried to blow up the hospital", Haleh offered cheerfully as she left the admit desk.

"Which idiot stopped him?" Susan asked as she rummaged through the mountain of charts on the desk.

A thick British accent called out for help behind her, "Excuse me, does anybody here know how to work the bloody coffee machine?"

Susan snatched a pair of charts and backpedaled to the lounge.

"Coffee sounds brilliant. You just got to get lucky and find a filter."

Corday lingered in the doorway to hold it open. "It certainly seems temperamental. I don't think we've met – Elizabeth Corday."

Susan stuck out her hand: "Susan Lewis. I've been warned about you."

Corday blushed, "That would be by Mr. Benton, I assume?" Susan laughed at how predictable it all seemed.

"I wouldn't be too concerned – Peter only gets defensive around people who are better than he is," Susan said as she moved toward the coffee machine. Corday smirked and said nothing, and Susan suspected that she felt comforted by hearing what she already thought on her own.

"Morning Carol," Susan said as she flipped open a filter box. Carol kept staring, but her non-response went past Susan who had to listen to Elizabeth.

"Liking your new home. You are the attending brought in with Weaver moving up?" Susan smiled and nodded as she set out to for a correction, "Yeah, but it's not new. I did most of my residency here."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Most?"

Susan blushed as she flipped Mr. Coffee red switch and started brewing. "Long story. I was in Phoenix for about a year, but I had to come back."

Elizabeth nodded and smiled, "That tall man with the bald head and glasses?" Susan furrowed her brow while Corday held up a hand as if to say, "_Don't think I'm stepping on your man_".

"Sorry. Cank travels fast around here, one thing I've learned."

Susan was completely confused, "Cank?"

Elizabeth blushed at her casual use of homeland slang. "Sorry – news. Gossip."

Now Susan understood. She giggled. Carol drummed her fingers in the background, and if Corday had an knowledge of her surroundings, she didn't show it or she would've seen the nurse's icy stare.

"So you speak Cockney?" Susan asked, Elizabeth laughed, "Heavens no. I'm what you'd call a British blue-blood. Picked up most of the jargon from this boy I met at age 16."

"First boyfriend?" Susan kept up conversation because she had seen in the corner of her eye how malicious Carol's thoughts seemed to be.

Elizabeth crossed her shoulders, "Sort of. Main interests were football and sex." Susan giggled again, "Sounds familiar."

Corday looks to her, "He plays football?" Susan shook her head, "No, Mark's more of a baseball man. We're going to the game tonight."

Corday nodded. "I see. Yanks seem more focused on this baseball. What is is you all talk about – the Koobies?"

Susan threw back her head in a laugh, "The...sorry, the _Cubbies_." Elizabeth nodded, as if to say, _I understand, but I somehow I don't._

"I'm more of a White Sox fan. Me and Mark are going to the game tonight." Just then Elizabeth's pager went off.

"Upstairs. Gotta run. Save me a cup, will you?" She pushed her way out the door. Susan turned to face Carol, who smirked.

"Looks like you're making new friends." Susan turned and grabbed the coffee pot as it had now pooled to a stop.

"What?"

Carol continued talking, not so much to Susan as to herself. "Why should I care? I mean, she seems nice. Perfectly nice. Just trying to be friendly, make some new peers in a strange land."

Susan was beginning to feel a tad uncomfortable but just nodded.

"Why does it bother me if Pippi Longstocking wants Doug to show her a good time? I mean, this is all about trust, right?"

Susan had pulled the coffee up to her lips and now spit it back out in a laugh.

"Come on, Carol. She...she was trying to pick up Doug?"

Carol tried to defend herself, "It sure as heck seemed like it."

"Things are different this time, right? I don't know why you two insist on being so secretive."

"I dunno", Carol mused, "Part of me thinks it was specifically for this reason – if we could add in this...this _other stuff_ without having it alter everything else in our lives."

"And is it working?"

Carol stopped, unsure of the answer. Then the answer came to her, and she and Susan exchanged a smile. "The Koobies?" Carol said. They both laughed heartily.

> > > >

A few hours later, Mark came in to cover an afternoon swing shift, still needing to be off by 6:30 for the 7:05 start. How had Susan talked him into going to Comiskey? It seemed sacrilege for him, noted Cub fan, to be watching the Sox. But he wouldn't really be watching them, he'd be watchng Susan, like he was right now with her back to him across the desk.

"Hello!" he cooed and she instantly turned and light up when she saw him.

"You're here to tell me you won the Lottery and we can quit?" She guessed as she met him in the hallway.

He pulled her in for a smooth, energetic kiss, lifting her slightly off the floor. "Will that do?"

Susan blushed, "Well, you won a different kind of lottery." Mark smiled at her but just then Carter walked by and playfully shouted, "Hey hey, get a room!" He and another doctor, short and blond, continued talking past them down the hallway.

Susan pulled herself together and began moving down hall as well. "So we're still on for tonight?"

Just then a silky sounding voice called out from behind the two of them, "Mark?"

They veered around to see a ridiculously fit women in workout sweats, hair still wet, wearing a splint on her wrist.

Mark was shocked and launched into immediate damage control, "Heather."

Heather Morgan sauntered up next to him, seemingly oblivious to Susan and certainly not having seen their little show moments earlier.

"You get my message?" Heather asked. _Who the hell is she_? Susan thought. Her jealousy instincts kicked in immediately.

Mark felt queasy. "Yeah, uh...sounds nice Heather. But I'm gonna have to decline. Other plans. I left you a message."

Heather nodded as Susan felt like breaking the chart she was holding in half. Then Heather smiled flirtatiously at Mark, "I haven't been home yet. I was up at physical therapy." She held up her splint, "Racquetball this time, not water polo. We're twins. How'd it happen to you – handball?"

Susan flinched. _Don't bring that up, you little..._she tried to control her emotions. Mark grimaced.

"I wish." If Leon Spinks and Jethro Tull had waltzed off the elevator drunk and signing "Locomotive Breath", Mark would've felt more comfortable than he did right now. _And why the hell is she flirting with me_?

"Maybe some other time. How's your _busy_ social calendar these days?" The sass she put into made Mark flinch and Susan's eyebrows rise.

"It's...not as busy. I gotta go, there's a, uh, a very dangerous otitis media in the next room."

Heather waved and sauntered back down the hallway. Mark hung his head and Susan let an inquisitive smile cross her face. "Got something you wanna share with the class, Mark?"

Mark's thoughts immediately turned mischievous. "As a matter of fact –"and he tugged her into a dark Exam Three, closing the door behind them.

Susan looked around in the dimly lit area, the bustle of the ER still audible behind them. "Mark, we're working."

"We can do two things at once." He smiled at her, and she giggled.

"You're still gonna have some explaining to do, you know that right?" Now she was trying a little tough love. Mark smirked at her but moved on ahead.

"You're gonna laugh at how stupid I was", he said as he tried to get her mind onto something else.

"Well, that won't be anything new," she said through a glowing smile as Mark turned the door's lock over.

> > > > >  
  
**Don't miss next week's exciting episode...Ok, so the update may be sooner than a week, but you get the idea...**


	2. Part the Second Of the Story

** Took me long enough but I finally generated a story idea that'll last a good long time. But I'm gonna feed it to you in small episodes. Also, for bonus points, what author am I copying by writing a "Part the First", etc. etc.? **

> > > >

PART THE FIRST OF THIS EPISODE (Approx. Season 4, "Ground Zero")

"Admit it, you had fun," Susan teased as they descended the EL platform steps in the hot morning air.

"Never," Mark declared, holding firm to his Cub roots. Susan had dragged him to four White Sox games in the last three weeks – she could drag him into a sewage pit and he'd follow – but some things couldn't be changed. "The company was great, but I draw the line on having fun."

Susan responded, "You guys always hold the ballpark against them" – at which point Mark cut her off, "If by you guys you mean bald people..."

Susan laughed as they rounded the corner to the ambulance bay. She had spent the whole train ride trying to cajole on what was in the box. He'd been vague and said he only wanted to spread good cheer in the ER. Susan thought it was a sign he was coming down with something.

Mark propped the box down in the Admit Desk area and out popped fresh doughnuts.

"And what's gotten into you?" Doug asked in a break from his chart work.

"The hospital settled the Kenny Law suit," Mark smiled as he turned and pecked Susan on the cheek. "One less asshole to worry about."

Susan was quick to turn her attention elsewhere, "What about the...."

Mark knew she was referring to the bathroom incident and just waved his hand, brushing his problems into the wind, "The police did a good job screwing that one up on their own." Mark began rummaging the charts for a good sick person to heal.

Susan watched him for a split-second, then turned and was greeted by Kerry Weaver, gamboling into the desk area trailed closely by Carol – at least, Susan thought it was Carol. She could see traces of black hair behind the mountain of books.

"Kerry, this budget proposal is a mess, you've gotta read thirteen thousand pages to come up with a two-page request." Definitely Carol, still riding the Free-Clinic train.

Weaver was erasing the board and seemed to pay Carol on lip service in responding: "The hospital does not have a mint stashed in the basement for the purposes of creating money for surplus services. You want this, cut through the red tape yourself." Susan tucked Carol's shoulder and they broke for the lounge.

"She forget her Midol this morning," Susan giggled under her breath.

> > > >

John Carter was finding it hard to focus on the sunburn victim in front of him. Across the hallway he could see Anna talking with an elderly couple, she was trying to explain the instructions for taking a drug to them. He wanted to walk over there and rescue her, but instead he was writing a clearance to have Haleh give some homeless man named Pablo a sponge-bath.

Anna had a tomboy attitude about her, raised on a shoe-string budget in a house full of Italian Catholics on Philadelphia's South Side. He came from all the luxury and privilege a couple hundred million dollars could buy. They were so different, so Carter felt the best path would be to discover how they were the same. They shared a lot of interests, although at times it was very hard to cover his pampered upbringing – some of those meat sauce stains were never gonna come out, no matter how many times he washed them.

His musing was broken when Susan stuck her head in Exam Three: "Carter, got a second?"

"Sure, I don't think Pablo's going anywhere." He met her outside the door.

Susan smiled and launched into it: "You've still got money, right? The stock market hasn't crashed or anything like that?"

Carter rolled his eyes, "Well, Gamma still bets like a drunk sailor during Gin Rummy games, but we've got some stashed in the Caymans."

Susan folded her hands, "Look, I only ask cause it's for the betterment of the hospital. You think you could arrange a meeting between Carol and whoever, I dunno, the bag man for your family?"

Carter couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. "The _bag man_? We're not the Gambinos."

Susan, "But still, you see Carol, you say, "Hey, I hear you need help getting funding for your clinic idea. My family might have a dollar or two lying around."

Carter nodded, "Well, Gamma loves a good cause. I'll see what I can do."

Susan smiled and was about to say thank you when Anna came up from the exam area to their left.

> > > >

"Hey Carter, can I still get full-time if I come back after journal club to cover the rest of a shift?" She always asked John these questions cause he had a good head for numbers. Too good, it sometimes seemed like it.

He was sweet, the kind of guy she probably would have thought was a square back in Philly. But sometimes a change of scene was good for everybody involved. Even so, she was wondering why he hadn't gone into business, why a head like his was so intent on practicing medicine.

But now he was stammering, "Oh, uh....yeah, I think so. Little creativity with the punch clock might be in order. Oh, and, I can't make it to journal club tonight, gotta dragged into a last minute thing to visit my grandmother."

Hm. _Last-minute with the grandparents_? But Anna dismissed the questions quickly. She and him weren't even going out, although she was certain he'd formally ask her soon. She headed off.

Carter watched her move away, up the stairs and Susan saw the glint in his eyes. She laughed.

Carter, as usual completely unaware of his surroundings, was perplexed. "What?"

"Little sumthing-sumthing going on there?" Susan teased. Carter dropped his head and exhaled, "Not exactly."

Just then the two of them turned at a distinctly angry noise, the sound of Mark Greene's irate voice.

"You can't pull this kind of crap, the hospital settled this already today. Somebody didn't get the memo!"

He was chasing after some guy in a plaid shirt who – was that fake blood on his head? Susan couldn't tell. Doug was chasing after Mark, trying to read a piece of paper he'd thrown on the ground in disgust.

Mark stood next to Carter and Susan, watching the guy head out the secondary exit. He began talking, loudly, at all of them but mainly to himself.

"He impersonated a patient! Can you believe that? There's gotta be some law against that! On a lawsuit that's over and done!"

Doug's tone was heavy as he looked up from the paper, "This is a new one Mark. It's in civil court."

Susan raised her eyebrows, "What?"

Mark turned ominously. Doug finished reading, "Chris Law is saying you violated his brothers civil rights."

Mark eyes were beginning to turn blood red, the three of them could sense his body beginning to broil. His teeth were clenched, he was forming a fist, and trying so hard not to completely lose it, he stalked his way to Trauma One.

To be Continued in Part the Second.....


	3. Part the Third Of the Story

**I begin this entry with a deserving shout-out to Darius Walker – and Beano Cook, please keep your mouth shut!!! College football fans will know what I mean.**

**Also, the trivia answer we were looking for was Charles Dickens, of "Book the First", etc. mentality in _A Tale of Two Cities_. But since only one person attempted to answer, maybe that is a sign that nobody is reading. Hmm....on with the show...**

> > >

PART THE SECOND OF THIS EPISODE

Carol Hathaway lurched over the textbooks, secretly praying for an answer. _Why does doing the right thing have to be so damn complicated_? It was beginning to seem like more trouble than it was worth.

"Please, show me a sign that something good is coming," Carol whispered, just loud enough in the hope that forces seen and unseen might hear.

That was the moment when John Carter walked in. He glanced at the books, and then at Carol's emotionally exhausted face.

"Walking the beat for clinic funds?" he said dryly, trying to ease into it so he wouldn't appear patronizing.

"I think I've gotta a better chance if I just stand out side with one of those Salvation Army Buckets...we could have Jerry out there as Santa Claus, Christmas in October," she deadpanned. Carter twiddled a pen as he sat down to make a phone call.

"Well..." he said as he dialed, "you thought about maybe a private charity? They pretty much exist so they can give money away." Carol's eyes perked up. Carter went for the finishing kill, "You should hear some of the nutty ideas my Grandmother gets....Hello? They're ready, fantastic," Carter hung up the receiver while stepping towards the door, saying back to a suddenly eager Carol, "My bowel infarction is all set for transport."

Carol called after him, "You think your grandmother would go for something like this?"

Carter smiled quickly to himself, proud of his charitable work and turned to show of his "modesty" face. "Well, you put something on paper, she'll probably take a look at it." He exited the lounge, where he bumped straight into Susan and Doug heading for the desk.

"Hey, Dr. Lewis, Carol's in." He tried not to sound too boastful. Susan, for her part, wasn't sure what he meant and quizzed him with her facial expression, stammering also, "What's that mean?"

Carter shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Whatever we mean when we say a person is 'in'. Now, no guarantees but Carol's pretty likeable and Gamma always had a soft spot for –"

Now Susan understood, "Oh, you got Carol to see your grandmothers, that's nice. Tell me how it goes."

Carter grinned and went on his way. Susan turned back to talk to Doug and the matter at hand.

> > > >

"Do you think he should be seeing somebody?" Susan asked.

"I told him to see somebody. I thought...well, he was doing so good with you back. You two are good for each other," Doug said somberly. They were both petrified, knowing it would not take much now to push Mark completely over the edge.

Doug nudged his way to the chart rack, "Tried to give him the number of a lawyer who helped me out with some insurance mess a while back, he practically stuffed the card back down my throat."

Susan winced. This was so unfair, for somebody like Mark who gave so much and expected so little, to be beaten over the head with an axe that had no right to be grinded. _It was a split-second decision_, she reasoned, _and there was no conspiracy to deprive anybody..._

Her brain wandered out into no-man's land and Doug snapped his fingers in front of her to call her attention down from the lights. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, genuinely unsure of her next move. "Right now it doesn't matter who's doing it, he doesn't want to be pushed."

"That's why he needs you to talk to him," Doug immediately sent back. "I mean, you have _some_ level of experience with this kind of..." and then he caught Susan glaring back into him, searing his flesh with her eyes.

"Mark is **not** Div Cvetic," she said defiantly, "and I don't think anybody's being fair around..."

The whole time the conversation had been going, neither of them had but the faintest recognition of what was developing in the waiting area, the escalating voice, and the strained communication rising to a pressure point that would kill the faint of heart.

And as Susan was defending Mark against some obvious similarities, that's when it happened:

"I'M SAYING YOUR HUSBAND LIED TO YOU ABOUT HIS CONDITION! HE'S GOING TO DIE!!"

The words pierced everyone and everything in the ER, not so much for what they meant as for who said them and what it represented.

Mark stumbled away from the old woman, who was trembling, but her unstable condition was nothing compared to Mark's, who looked like all sensory function was literally melting out of his body.

> > > >

Doug walked tentatively towards him, trying to coax a good friend off the ledge.

"No...no...just," Mark couldn't even muster simple words, couldn't connect the bitter, confusing thoughts in his brain, and just threw his stethoscope to the ground, his ID along with it, and stormed out. Doug stood there, watching him attempt to punish the pavement as he walked, and turned back to Susan.

She was standing at the admissions counter, trying very hard not to break down right there, and Doug's face said everything she need to know: _She had to go to him. She had to be the strong one now_.

She disappeared into the lounge and grabbed her coat.

> > > >

"Is beneficiary spelled with one 'n' or two?" Carol asked in a flustered manner to Anna as 6 P.M. rolled around.

"One. Business proposal?" Anna was all in favor of an inner-city health clinic, wanted to help, but kept tracing her thoughts in circles to avoid getting too involved in anything yet. That was what had happened in Philadelphia – she kept getting too involved, too attached...to things she should've had nothing to do with.

The two of them were heading for the lounge, and Carol kept relaying her story, "Nervous...my mom likes to think butterflies in the stomach keep you focused, sometimes it makes me wanna hurl. I just hope Carter's grandmother goes for it, I'm at the end of my rope with this thing."

Anna's mind snapped to attention when she heard Carter enter this discussion. _Hadn't he..._and she slowly pieced it all together.

"Carter – our Carter?" She wanted it to be just a freakish coincidence.

"Oh yeah, Carter's blueblood, family's got more money than they know what do with," Carol said nonchalantly as she pushed into the lounge and towards her locker. Anna stood in the doorway, pursing her lips so nobody could see her bitter smirk.

"So we're gonna tell 'em that County clinics are the way to go."

Carol turned. "_We_?"

Anna smiled and nodded, "Sounds like you need a little help. I was quite the persuader for my middle school debate club. Let's swing by the old _Carter_ place."

Carol sensed something wasn't all that calm inside of Anna, but she needed all the allies she could get right now. They headed for the parking garage.

> > > >

Doug piled the charts together, crossed a couple I's and dotted some T's, and exhaled. 40 kids that day. It was something he only rarely reflected on, but it seemed like the job never got easier, even with almost 7 years of experience doing it. Maybe the simple fact that it was surprising him was what really had him bothered at the moment – the job was never easy. Hell, his life had not been easy. Why should this come as a shock?

He didn't know. What he _did_ know was there were two patients left on the board and a half-hour to go in the shift.

"Dr. Ross," Randi called from behind him, "Telephone call."

"Take a message," he said, barely conscious of the remark.

"They say they're long distance," Randi shot back a moment later.

Doug rolled his eyes and picked up the phone,

"Hello. Yes, Dr. Doug Ross...Uh-huh...No, I haven't spoken to him in over a year...He what?"

> > > >

She found him back at the apartment, lights off, just sitting on the windowsill, a cigarette dying a slow death in his hands.

Susan stood in the doorway and coached herself one last time. She was not letting him get away, not when they had been through so much.

"Hey."

Mark looked out into the night, seeming to not know where he was, which was probably an accurate read on his feelings.

Tenderly, fearful that the slightest movement could set off some mixture of rage and fear, Susan walked towards him. She was near him, then next to him, peering over his shoulder, when he started talking.

"The worst feeling I have ever had was walking up the steps in May. The night you came back, I...I never told you, but I had a gun on me that night." Susan froze, locking with the reflection of his eyes in the window, as he kept going, "I just couldn't stop myself. I...had no control, over anything, anybody, not even my own mind was within my limits. It was the worst feeling I ever had, like --- like I was watching myself drown, unable to do anything but let the pain happen. And I...I felt that again today. Can't help but feel like that most of the time."

He looked down at his shoes, and took of his glasses. Susan pulled around and cupped his face in her hands, and said the only thing that seemed to matter to her: "I love you. And I've been through too much. I lost Div this way. Please don't let go of....don't let go of me, of us."

The air lingered between the two of them for a moment, Mark connecting with her eyes and she with his, before he spoke again, "I don't know how long I can keep doing it...keep peeking over my shoulder, keep pressing myself down...keep, keep it all inside."

"You don't have to," she said instantly. "I'm here for you. I am, Doug is, Carol is, John is, Peter, even Kerry. You have always been there for us – let us be there for you Mark." The strain was evident in her voice, and finally she gave up trying – tears began falling, madly, down her cheeks as she continued to stare into his soul.

Mark took a second to see Susan Lewis – really, to _see_ her, for the first time in a long time. She was beautiful, she was...she was so much better than anything he could've ever dreamed up in his own mind. Why would he be willing to let somebody cheap destroy his ability to see that? In that moment, the two of them facing each other, Mark felt their hears beating in time and then, in the spur of an incredible moment, leaned into kiss her.

It was not one of comfort, or desperation – the two of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, delivering a validation of their commitment to each other. And in that moment, Mark's brain pulled out a memory, one of Van Morrison playing in the apartment on a humid summer morning...

_You'll look at me_

_With eyes that see_

_And melt into each other's arms_

_And so I come_

_To be the one_

_Who's always standing next to you_

_Reach out for me_

_So I can be_

_The one who's always reaching out for you_

_yes I will_

_You'll be my queen_

_I'll be your king_

_And I'll be your lover too._

> > > >

They laid in bed half the night, the two bodies as one heart, in perfect harmony with everything around them. The blissful silence, the comforting absence of confusing words, was broken by a knock at the door.

For a second Mark and Susan just held each other a little closer, hoping it would fade like every other disenchanting element of the world.

It didn't.

Mark reluctantly pulled himself out of Susan's grasp, and walked nimbly to the door. When he opened it, Doug was standing there was head focused on the floor. Mark could feel the air go bizarrely cold as his friend looked at him.

"Hi. Uh...can I come in? Something's happened."

THE END...

...**of this episode. Stay tuned for more adventures of the ER gang...**


End file.
